The Pirate’s Jewel

by Casie, Ruth A.

  “Oh, you’re meeting her fiancé—”

  “No, no, no,” she said growing more agitated by the minute. She snapped her head around as the sound of the horse’s hooves and the wagon on the cobblestones leaving the dock reached her ears. She gasped and shuffled back a step stumbling on the edge of the dock.

  With lightning speed, the stranger grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest before she tumbled into the water.

  Darla stared up into overpowering gray eyes that seemed to see right through her. His ruggedly handsome face was familiar, but she couldn’t place from where. She lowered her head and looked away. Crushed against his chest, she felt his hard muscles under her hand. For a moment, she couldn’t move, she didn’t want to. A heady sensation wrapped her in a daze like dream. A shiver across her shoulders cleared her mind and she caught her wits.

  “I’m sorry.” She stepped away fidgeting with her skirt, glad she’d worn her sturdy brown wool. Any of her other dresses would not have survived. She looked at his hand on her elbow then at him.

  “It’s dark. And the shadows can be deceiving. I’ve seen many a seaman take a false step and land in the water.” He let her go. The warmth of his touch lingered when he removed his hand. For a moment her fingers ached with a need to touch him. An overwhelming desire rushed through her veins before the heady feeling subsided as quickly as it started.

  “Thank you for saving me, Mr.?”

  “Mills. Wesley Mills, and you?”

  “Darla Maxwell. Please. Do not let me delay you.”

  “I could wait with you until Magnus or whomever you are waiting for arrives.”

  Her cheeks filled with heat. She gathered her wits and gave him the most awful glare she could muster. The man had the good sense to lower his head and not laugh.

  “No? Then if you will excuse me.” He stared at her intently as if he memorized her features, dipped his head politely, then strode to the tavern, wearing a well-fitting air of command and self-confidence.

  She couldn’t help but gaze at him as she stroked her arm still warm from the heat of his grasp. He walked toward the tavern and her breath caught. Her eyes took in his form from the black boots to pants that cupped along muscled thighs, on up to the back of his head. He stopped at the tavern door and looked at her, his head cocked to the side. Her heart pounded at the playful gleam she saw in his eyes. She turned away, not wanting him to think she watched him, but it took great willpower.

  A gust of wind ruffled her hair. She glanced at the tavern as the door closed.

  She straightened her skirt, made her way to the gangplank, and hesitated. The narrow board appeared sturdy enough. Now wasn’t the time to be queasy about boarding the boat. This was her last opportunity to speak to her father. One last look around, a deep breath, and she marched onto the ship.

  “Lady Darla,” Richards said and tipped his cap. “Your father is expecting you.”

  “Expecting me?” She followed the captain, but was quickly distracted and didn’t know where to look first.

  The ship’s deck was broader than her father’s other ships. He had mentioned the small castles at either end of the deck, but it was the two masts that held her attention. She nearly walked into Richards trying to figure out why the yardarm was not straight.

  “That’s for the lateen.”

  “The triangular sail?” she asked, still staring at the mast imagining what the sail looked like unfurled.

  “Yes. We put it to good use on our way here. I would give you a more thorough tour, but bad weather is coming and we want to set sail as soon as possible. Let me show you to his cabin.”

  She entered a narrow passageway at the stern of the ship. Richards knocked on the door below a small hole at eye level.

  “Come,” her father said. Richards opened the door.

  “Lady Darla, sir.” The captain stood to the side for her to enter.

  “My thanks. As soon as the men have boarded have them ready to sail on my instructions.”

  The captain nodded, then quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Darla. You are predictable. I knew to expect a visit from you.” He sat back in his big chair, his mouth twitching with amusement.

  “I must go with you tonight. Please, Father, don’t send me away.” She purposefully used words that would tug at his heart.

  “Go back to Dundhragon. You’ll give Maria and Eugena a fright if they can’t find you.”

  “I left Lord Ewan a note thanking him for his hospitality and telling him that I was sailing home with you,” Darla said with quiet firmness. She had thought of everything. Now, if only she could convince her father.

  “Lord Ewan will arrange for an escort to take you home before the end of the week.” His amusement was gone, replaced with an equal dollop of rigid obstinance.

  “But?” She wouldn’t let him sail without her. She was as stubborn as he.

  “If the weather holds, you will be safely home in a week.” He opened the cabin door and with a gentle hand guided her on to the deck and toward the gangplank.

  “If you won’t let me go with you then stay with me,” she said. “Send Richards. You’re not going to leave my future to Lord Ewan. Do you want him to marry me to one of his awful generals? Father, I couldn’t stand that.”

  “Your cousin Eugena will not let that happen. And I must agree before Lord Ewan makes any commitment on your behalf. So, daughter, you are safe.” He patted her hand.

  Crewmen arrived and hurried about the deck, taking special care to stay out of her way. Sailors and their superstitions were worse than petty gossips.

  Thirteen years ago, rumors of her ‘gifts’ had been bantered around along with the word ‘witch.’ Her father had rooted out the source and made sure justice was served, but the damage had already been done.

  Her father walked with her onto the dock. “I’ll take you back to the castle.”

  “Sir,” Richards called from the deck. “We’re ready for you in the forecastle.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Maxwell shouted back. He turned to Darla. “Wait here. I’ll have someone escort you home. Speak to Ewan tomorrow. He’ll make all the arrangements. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  Maxwell kissed Darla’s forehead, then hurried back on to the ship.

  Darla wasn’t going to wait for anyone and started up the street. Dread marched down her spine the farther she walked away from the Sea Diamond. She should have told him about the danger she’d sensed if he sailed on the cog. But that information would only solidify his determination to keep her off the ship and away from him. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped. The deck had been a mass of activity when she stepped off the gangplank. Now, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

  If he wouldn’t stay, then she had no choice but to go with him. The trip was less than a half day’s travel. All she had to do was get on board and stay out of sight. The idea appealed to her. She’d already left Lord Ewan a note. He wouldn’t be looking for her.

  She licked her lips. Father would be very upset if he found her on board. The simple answer was to make sure he didn’t find her. This ship was so much bigger than the others her father owned. Hiding shouldn’t be too difficult. The trip was short, and she only had to make sure he didn’t find her until after they had gone too far to return.

  She hurried to the gangplank, while her resolve was still intact, and stole onboard.

  “Men, gather round.”

  The sound of her father’s voice coming from the forward structure nearly made her jump out of her soft soled shoes.

  “We encountered pirates earlier and we suspect we will again on this short voyage as well. You can leave if you want without any question. But there’s double pay for those who stay.”

  She braced herself against the small castle door and tried to blend into the shadows expecting sailors to rush toward the gangplank to make their escape. No one came.

  “I’m glad you’re with me.” Her father sounded relieve
d. “Now stay alert, follow Captain Richards’ orders. With any luck we’ll have a smooth sail home and be in our beds before the sun comes up. Captain, dismiss the men.”

  Frantic, she glanced around. Barrels stood like sentinels stacked in the corners. Frozen to the spot, she had no idea where to go. Men’s voices from the bow grew louder and jolted her into action. Stepping between the barrels, she tucked herself down out of sight.

  Men’s voices were all around her shouting orders, while others groaned as they leaned their backs into the tasks. Two sailors hauled up the gangplank. From her hiding place, she looked on as the mates released the dock lines and others managed the sail. Still others used poles to push away from the dock.

  The barrels around her inched apart as the ship caught the current and moved into the channel. With nothing to grab onto, all she could do was pray they didn’t roll away with her.

  The sail rippled as it unfurled and filled with air. The guidelines pulled and strained. The power of the ship was unmistakable. She closed her eyes and for the moment enjoyed the surge of power as the ship moved forward. The smooth gliding motion and the lapping water against the hull thrilled her now as it had years ago.

  Her father burst through the doorway a few feet from her. Instinctively, she pushed back, hoping her brown dress blended in with the wood grain.

  “Sir,” Captain Richards’ second man said. “I couldn’t find Lady Darla. I went half way up the street toward the castle and didn’t see her.”

  “That girl will be the death of me. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a hundred times she is not to go anywhere without an escort.”

  Anger rolled off her father in waves. Even from where she sat she saw his clenched jaw and fisted hands.

  “Why aren’t these below?” her father asked, pointing toward the barrels that comprised her hiding place.

  Richards shrugged. “With Lord Ewan’s men and supplies, there isn’t any room. I’ll have the men tie them to the deck.”

  Darla froze. The men picked up ropes and started to secure the barrels across from her. Her watery eyes enlarged, the hairs on the nape of her neck bristled, and gooseflesh pimpled her frigid skin. Slow and deliberate, a tall man stepped out of the shadows and marched toward her hiding place. Please, don’t let him find me. Not now. She kept her gaze focused on him and tamped down her building panic. There was no place for her to run. She was trapped. His powerful well-muscled body moved toward her with an easy grace.

  As he got closer, she tried to make out his facial features. They were strong, but in the darkening shadows, she couldn’t make out who approached. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind. He moved with an air of authority and the appearance of one who demanded instant obedience.

  She closed her eyes. A vision emerged from a swirl of mist. A face. His face. Wesley Mills’ face. She snapped her eyes open.

  With all the activity and noise around her she still heard his footsteps thunder as he came across the deck heading toward her. If he unveiled her now, all would be lost. He bent over the barrels, stretched his arm between the casks brushing her shoulder, but not claiming it.

  “You’ll not find Magnus there either, m’lady.”

  “Mr. Mills—”

  “As your co-conspirator you can call me Wesley. Now hush. Not another word.” He found the loose sail next to her and yanked it out. With a toss, he covered the barrels with the sheet.

  “Tie this down. This will keep the barrels and anything else in place,” Wesley said.

  Chapter Four

  The ship glided out of the protection of the dock and sailed into the churning channel. Huddled under the sail, hugging her knees, Darla thought she might as well be blind. To add to her discomfort, the aroma of beer from the surrounding barrels was overpowering in the small space.

  The rise and fall of the ship had her holding on to the barrels for dear life. Large raindrops that randomly pelted Darla’s shelter intensified. The ends of her canvas hideout fluttered and hammered a beat as gusts of wind plowed into the standing barrels sending sprays of water through the spaces between them. The tight ropes holding her sanctuary together sang as they strained against the pitching of the ship and onslaught of the wind and rain.

  From her hiding place, she had no sense of what happened beyond its boundary. No way to prepare for the next roll of the ship, gust of wind or drenching rush of water. Shouted orders along with the grunts and salty words of the crew reached her ears above the sound of the howling wind and crashing water.

  “Take in the sail. Toss out the sea anchor. We need to keep the ship headed into the wind. Tie a bag of oil to the windward side and toss it over. Let’s hope that keeps the waves from breaking over the side.”

  Water that soaked through her makeshift canopy gathered above her and rained down on her, adding to her misery. She lifted her skirt, tucked her mantle close, but the water wicked through her clothes. Soaked and tired to the bone, she gave up trying to keep dry. Drained of any warmth, she shivered and waited for her ordeal to end.

  Riding up and down the swelling sea, the rise and fall of the ship continued. The limited air in her space soured. Woozy, she needed fresh air but was trapped with no way out. With her head on her knees, she closed her eyes and prayed for the journey to end.

  The thundering snap of a rope, followed by the full force of the wind and water startled her from her daze. Part of the sail slid off the barrels. She grabbed at it, but the wind pulled the canvas from her hand. For a moment, she delighted in the salty air and took a deep breath. The ship lurched and the barrels protecting her came loose from their bindings and turned into crushing weapons.

  Strong arms grasped her. She didn’t care if her father found her. Getting free of her prison was all she wanted.

  The wind roared down the deck, sprays of water erupted from the prow as the ship bounced and rolled in the sea. Nothing hindered the man’s grip. Finally, she raised her head, but the shroud of fog blanketing the ship made it difficult to see.

  Darla strained and made out dark wet hair plastered to his face. The ship shifted beneath her feet. Unsteady, he held her close, she clung to him. She didn’t have to see clearly to know who held her.

  Close to his chest, she made out rivulets of blood sliding down the side of his head, but she clung hard to him. She pulled away from his chest and stretched to reach his ear with her mouth.

  “You’re hurt.”

  He said nothing as he moved them forward.

  “You have my thanks.”

  He turned and gave her a flash of a smile.

  “Wesley.” She smiled at him.

  “I was afraid you’d think I was Magnus.” He cupped her head and drew her to his chest. He staggered forward fighting his way against the wind to reach the entrance. Here, there was some protection from the wind. He made fast work of the door.

  The wind howled outside. She let out a breath, but Wesley didn’t stop. He hurried down the narrow passageway into a cabin.

  “You’ll be safe here.” He sat her in a chair then went to leave. “Whatever you do, stay inside.”

  A secretive smile softened his lips before he left, closing the door behind him. She ran to the door, looked through the small hole, and watched him make his way down the passageway, his broad shoulders nearly scraping both walls.

  The pitching of the ship eased. With what little strength she had left, she took off her soaked mantle and kirtle, wrung them out as best she could and hung them on the backs of chairs to dry. Her chemise was salvageable. She wrapped herself in a blanket from the footlocker and glanced around the room.

  With all the chairs covered with her drying clothes, she sat on the bed.

  Dry, warm, and safe, the shivering stopped, but her body was exhausted and she couldn’t work her mind to put two thoughts together. Focus on something, anything. She waited for Father. He was not going to be happy. She fought to keep her eyes open, but in the end, she lost the battle.

  The image of the boy from al
l those years ago smiled at her. He waded into the water holding his hand out in a silent invitation. Enticed by his smile, she followed and they dove deep into the calm water.

  They went deeper until the boy turned and headed for the surface. Stroke for stroke she followed, but the distance between them increased. She sped up and when she looked to see where he went, he was gone. He must be on the surface. She looked at the light above and knew she was close, but although she swam, she didn’t get any closer. Her arms reached above her head and pushed on the water as her feet kicked to propel her to the top. The surface remained beyond her grasp. She needed air. From the depths of the water, her sea dragon swam past her, encouraging her to follow. She pushed harder and kicked faster to catch him. One. More. Push. Her head popped out of the water.

  She shot up in bed and gasped for air.

  “What do you mean you found a stowaway? A pirate?” Father’s voice broke through the silence. An oddly primitive warning sounded in her brain. Dressed only in her chemise, she gathered up her clothes, ready to put on the wet gown until she spied her satchel by the door. How did it get in here?

  Wesley.

  “No. Not a pirate.” Wesley’s voice was almost as stern as her father’s.

  She pulled on a dry gown, then rushed back to the bed, pulled the blanket over her head, and listened as her father entered the room.

  “And you locked the thief in here, my cabin,” Father said as he moved next to the bed and yanked the blanket away.

  She looked up into her father’s eyes that were stony with anger.

  “Hello, Father. Are we home yet?” She plastered on a grin even though there was nothing to smile about. There was nothing for her to do but tolerate his anger.

  “You,” he hollered and threw the blanket on the floor. “Wesley tells me he found you stowed away among the barrels.” He paced beside the bed. “How did you get there? Didn’t I tell you to go back to the castle? You’re lucky I don’t throw you overboard.”

  He paced in the small space. He stopped, turned and faced Wesley.